


Mistletoe

by fireandhoney



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas 2020, Christmas Advent, Christmas Advent 2020, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Silent Conversations, i love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Summary: "And so John was faced with an important challenge when, during the friends and family dinner he organized at Baker Street, he ended up stuck under the mistletoe with his flatmate."
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Mistletoe

John Watson had always been a man of traditions. He respected what had been established and enjoyed the sort of structure that pre-existent events and routines provided. He particularly liked Christmas traditions, hanging stockings and wrapping presents and mulled wine. And so John was faced with an important challenge when, during the friends and family dinner he organized at Baker Street, he ended up stuck under the mistletoe with his flatmate.   


Sherlock had always thought people were being overly romantic and exaggerating when they said that a moment could stretch on forever, until it happened to him. He’d been stepping out of the kitchen, texting on his phone, when he bumped into John, and the two of them looked at each other, annoyance and surprise meeting halfway. And thus began the longest conversation of their lives. 

John hadn’t wanted a mistletoe anywhere near the apartment, but Mrs Hudson had insisted, saying it wasn’t really a Christmas party without it. She took it upon herself to place it above the door frame between the two living areas, telling John that it was just an old tradition and it didn’t have to mean anything. John wasn’t an idiot, he knew damn well what she was trying to do, and he’d done his best to avoid it, making sure he knew where Sherlock was at all time so they wouldn’t meet here. Yet, here they were, staring at one another, frozen in place. 

Sherlock didn’t understand why John cared so much about all these social contracts that in reality, meant nothing. They’d argued about it so many times before, John proning that a society needed some sort of rules or else how would people know how to interact; and Sherlock, accurately saying he had managed his whole life without following any pre-established social niceties. And it always ended up a mess, John claiming that was exactly why Sherlock always ended up mistreated, and Sherlock pretending he didn’t care so long as he could keep his rude and impersonal façade. 

**No one cares, John.**

_ I do, though.  _

**Why?**

_ We’ve had this discussion so many damn times, Sherlock! _

**Yes, and you’re still ridiculous. I’m not going to let a plant dictate my life.**

_ It’s not just a plant, it’s a symbol.  _

**A simplistic, ridiculous tradition. Kissing under the mistletoe. I refuse to lower myself to such standards.**

_ Oh yeah, because you’re Mr Famous Detective Sherlock Holmes, and I’m just some low standing doctor. _

Sherlock leaned his head sideways, brows furrowed in confusion. 

**I wasn’t talking about you.**

John huffing slightly. 

_ Then just do it so we can move on from this and pretend it never happened.  _

**No, absolutely not. I refuse.**

_ What, am I really that off-putting that you can’t do a quick peck and keep living? _

Sherlock’s head moving back a bit in shock. 

**Why would you think that?**

_ Because this is what’s happening.  _

**Why do you give this so much importance? Why do you want me to kiss you so bad?**

A long silence, John swallowing and Sherlock taking in a short breath, realizing the implications of such a question. 

_ Let’s just get this over with.  _

**John, why?**

_ Alright, I’m giving up, you are exasperating. _

Sherlock worrying his bottom lip, grabbing John’s shoulder before he can move. 

**Do you really want our first kiss to be because of a stupid plant?**

John’s eyes turning pink, and blinking a few times. 

_ First? _

**Have we kissed before and I don’t remember it?**

_ Sherlock, you ass, you know perfectly well what I meant. _

**And you know what I meant as well, so why are you questioning it?**

Sherlock’s gaze portraying both a challenge and question. 

_ Are you daring me? _

**Perhaps.**

_ We’re idiots, aren’t we? _

**You? Most certain-**

The rest of Sherlock’s thought getting lost forever as John grabs his face in both hands and moves forward, reaching up to push his lips against Sherlock’s almost aggressively, so much so that Sherlock stumbles backwards and hits the wall behind him. Sherlock’s arms snaking around John’s smaller form, wrapping around his waist and pulling him tight, their bodies colliding perfectly together. 

The two men were so focused on their silent conversation that they didn’t notice how the entire flat had fallen quiet, and as they deepened the kiss, Greg whistled teasingly. As if hit by a train, John and Sherlock pulled back, heavy breathing, chests heaving. They opened their eyes and stared at each other, half panicked and half embarrassed. 

**So, it appears we have a public.**

_ Acute deduction there, detective. _

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John laughed breathlessly. 

**I hate you.**

_ Oh, it’s mutual.  _

They both smiled, their eyes glancing up to the mistletoe. 

**Okay, maybe not all traditions are ridiculous.**

_ Hard agree, but let’s maybe wait for our guests to be gone before we repeat it? _

Sherlock huffing his disapproval, and John swatting him on the arm, then bringing his hand up to wipe his lips quickly. Sherlock replacing his own suit, running a hand in his hair for good measure, and stepping back, taking his phone out to continue texting. 

John, finally entering the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of wine he’d been on the way to getting, before emerging into the living room, cautiously ignoring Greg’s wiggling eyebrows and Mrs Hudson’s obvious investment in their burgeoning relationship. And the night continued, because Sherlock was apparently right: no one cared, or actually, everyone cared that it’d finally happened. 

  
  



End file.
